


night falls from my neck like silver arrows, very gently

by feralphoenix



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Canon, Size Difference, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 04:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralphoenix/pseuds/feralphoenix
Summary: Sans and Asgore go toy shopping.





	night falls from my neck like silver arrows, very gently

**Author's Note:**

> _(the king of all happiness_ – through your skin, which goes silver, through shame burned black on you, through a thirst that we cannot describe)
> 
> this story is sort of a spicie 5+ish-year timestamp to [this sfw sansgore fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377541); there is loose continuity, so if you're interested in how this rarepair got together you may want to check that out.
> 
> for those who are not familiar with how i handle monster gender, here's the cliff's notes version: monsters do not assign gender to babies based on genital appearance, they choose their own genders as children; therefore there is zero correlation between a monster's gender and what sort of junk they've got and no one is cis. what that means in terms of this fic is that asgore has a vagina, and in monster society this is not perceived as a big deal.
> 
> also, while this fic does include some practical advice about toys, please consult a reputable sex ed source like scarleteen or something if you want to learn more about this stuff instead of using fanfiction as your only source of sex ed.

There would, inevitably, be some great big hullaballoo about it in the papers if the King of Monsters were spotted walking into a sex shop: So you went by yourself first, a coupla days earlier, just scoping it out. It’s small, discreet, upscale, privately run by caring staff—or so Alphys, who had given the recommendation, told you. She of the massive libido has lots of stress-relieving hobbies for when her more complicated research isn’t working out right, and one of them’s designing and engineering and creating her own adult toys, for herself and also for selling. This toy store carries her product line—mostly the human-compatible stuff, aside from a few novelties, since the store _is_ in Ebott City and so its clientele is primarily human—and she swears to you up and down that the staff are monster-friendly and helpful.

“What, you went to find out for yourself that it ain’t just them bein’ polite to a supplier?” you asked, grinning broadly.

“Not, uhhh, exactly,” Alphys said, side-eyeing you.

“So you sent Undyne to check it out or something?”

“No! _Ugh,_ look, if you really _have_ to know, it was, er. Frisk, a-actually. They said they go to that store all the time and the p, the staff a-are really nice. They b-brought it up when they s-saw my, uh… s-some of my stuff there and c-c-complimented me on the choice of stores.”

“Uh, wow,” you’d said. Sure you get in your _head_ that Frisk’s over the age of majority now, is a grown-up, but the mental picture of them frequenting a sex shop is fever dream bizarre. They’re out of town right now on ambassador work, but you hope to fuck you never run into them there in the future, in case you wind up coming back someday.

“D-don’t look at me like that when you’re the one who _asked,”_ Alphys said primly, reaching out to smack you without force.

“Well,” you replied, shrugging. “Guess you’re right—no _bones_ about it.”

She gave you this Look over the rims of her glasses and you gave her your best shit-eating grin, and that was probably the most graceful opportunity you’d have to change the topic, so you did.

Anyway, you went to scope the place out beforehand so that you’d be able to shortcut to it later. You only looked from the outside; it’s got frosted windows and a side and back entrance that’re a little more discreet than the front one. You’ve never been to a sex shop before, and don’t have any real desire to go in one without Asgore. He’s the one who’ll be doing the shopping, after all; there’s really nothing here that you’d want or need.

It took a long, long, _long-_ ass time for the subject of sex to even, heh, _come up_ between you and him, like actual years long. Asgore never said anything about it, and you tend to forget all about sex for huge swathes of time unless something jogs your memory, so it wasn’t ‘til recently that it occurred to you that hey, actually, Asgore’s previous relationship had definitely featured sex at least at one point. He’s got a _kid,_ and for ninety-nine percent of monsters sex is the only way to make that happen. You and Papyrus, _hand-_ made with the help of science because your old man was just that uninterested, are apparently the exception.

So you asked Asgore as gently as you possibly knew how if sex was something he might be interested in, and he’d just tilted his head and stared at you with cartoonishly round eyes.

“I had just,” he said at length. “Er, I had thought that you would not be interested, so I, er—have been taking care of those things by myself. I did not want to trouble you.”

It’s just completely mindboggling, how every time you think you’ve finally reached the depths of Asgore’s Big Fuzzy Pushover-ness he does something to prove to you that the vein runs deeper still. You thought at the time, and still think now, that Asgore has finally gone past the realm where Frisk could still give him a good run for his money at the doormat races.

“It ain’t gonna trouble me just to put it on the table,” you told him at the time, reaching up to touch the side of his face. Your hands’re way too small to really cup his cheeks but he always seems to appreciate the thought just the same. “At least give me a chance to say yes or no, yeah?”

Naturally it was not a conversation that got finished that afternoon, or even that whole day. Took more like a week to baby each bit of the discussion along, Asgore frozen from unwillingness to impose or maybe fear that you’d reject him if he said the wrong thing, and you unsure of what to say outta worry you’d land wrongfooted.

But eventually you got through the essentials: Yes, appropriate to his own Boss Monster headgear, Asgore is and has for some time been horny, and would like to have sex with you if and only if you’re down to mattress boogie; yes, you are fine with the having of sex even though you ain’t got anything remotely resembling genitals nor the ability to get off.

Asgore still seemed unsure that you’d really and truly enjoy yourself with him in that case, so you patted him on the shoulder and told him to relax—“It’s fun just gettin’ a chance to cuddle and makin’ your partner feel spoiled, y’know? Gives massive bonuses to friendship and romance. Also I can’t lie, I bet you’re _adorable_ when you’re getting fucked, so I wanna be up close ‘n personal with ya while I’m giving you the big cummies.”

Naturally he just tilted his head to one side and looked mystified by the proclamation you’d managed to wrap deftly in jokes all special. Life is suffering when making yourself vulnerable makes your feelings break out in hives, humor and irony are your go-to defense mechanisms, and you’re dating a goofy DILF who one hundred percent does not understand modern humor.

This is not Asgore’s fault, and talking with your therapist has tentatively convinced you that the pressure to be more honest can be good for you if you let it be. But explaining the etymology and humorous sensibility of the word _cummies_ is still title-bearer for The worst conversation you’ve ever had with anybody, Ever.

Anyway, from there you progressed to specifics: What would he be interested in actually doing if slash when you got down to brass tacks? Any favorite toys, or…?

“Oh,” Asgore said then, in this distinctly unhappily enlightened tone, like he’d just seen storm clouds building on a day he’d set aside for a walk. “Er, I don’t… have any. I have… mostly only been using my hands.”

“Huh,” you said. “’Cause I gotta say, I wouldn’t be _unwilling_ to get some phalanges up ins, but I think they tend to be more of an… acquired taste, being as bones. Even if size-wise there wouldn’t be any problem…”

“Er,” Asgore said, yet more awkwardly, pressing his huge meaty fingertips together. “That is to say—I have not been penetrated in, goodness, at least a century. Claws and fur do not make for very comfortable internal stimulation.”

“And you don’t got any toys, which means probably no lube either,” you said, reaching back to wind your fingers around the knobbles of the vertebrae where your neck hits your skull. “Just doing cuddly shit while you jack off doesn’t sound like a _bad_ time, mind, but if we’re plannin’ on me helpin’ out… it sounds like we maybe got a shopping trip to do.”

Whiiiiiiiich brings you to today.

Both of you have made sure that you don’t got any responsibilities to take care of—Asgore did extra gardening work at Tori’s school yesterday, you made sure to schedule this little outing for a time when Asgore’s next scheduled visitation with the kids is ages off.

You… do not really have any responsibilities because you just do stand-up comedy and quantum physics lectures when you feel like it, but you made sure to let Papyrus know you’re gonna be staying over with Asgore for a while and to take good care of the house while you’re gone. He’s probably gonna clean your room into unrecognizability, but eh, that’s a small price to pay for getting laid. Plus it’ll make your brother happy.

So when you shortcut Asgore to that discreet side entrance it’s with as little weight on your mind as you think you can have, given the situation. He doesn’t drop your hand, and so when you walk through the automatic doors—Asgore ducking a little so he won’t bonk his horns on the doorframe, which is just a little too low—you do it together.

“Huh,” you say upon getting your first look at the inside of the store.

Asgore turns and looks down at you. “Is there something the matter, Sans?”

“Nah,” you answer, and reach up to scratch your skull. “It just looks a lot more… I dunno, _normal_ than I was expecting? Not that I know what I was really expecting,” you add.

Asgore chuckles a little but mercifully leaves it at that.

The inside of the store really does look almost exactly like a corner convenience store, except that instead of junk food, lawn ornaments, makeup, and first aid supplies, the walls and aisles are lined with things like sex toys and condoms, dick-shaped candles and costumes. You just stand and boggle, not sure where to look first, and either because he’s waiting for your lead or because he’s not sure what to do either, Asgore just stands and boggles too. You’re frankly lucky that no one enters the same doors, ‘cause you’re probably blocking them.

Just when it’s starting to get awkward, a cheerful-looking human you’re guessing is a store employee judging by the logo on their shirt and their nametag comes bustling towards you, grinning. “Hi there! Is this your first time shopping here?”

“Yup,” you tell them. “Or, uhh, anywhere like here, actually.”

The human nods. They’re maybe half a head taller than you, darker-skinned and rounder than Frisk with long curly hair tied back in a ponytail; they sorta remind you of Frisk in work mode, actually, they’ve got the same sunny air to their attitude and they didn’t even double-take at seeing a skeleton and a giant lion goat. “Well, my name’s Mariah, and I can help walk through things with you if you’d like. A lot of folks find sex stores a little intimidating or embarrassing their first time, and advice can be helpful if you’re new to toy shopping. Some of the products we carry are pricey, and you can’t really return a sex toy you’ve already used to the store if you find out later you don’t like it, so we want to make sure you’ll find something you can go home happy with.”

You look at Asgore, who looks at you. You raise your bony brows at him, like _it’s gonna be for you anyway, so what’s your comfort level?_ and maybe Asgore understands this, because he nods and says to Mariah, “Ah, we would be grateful for your assistance. Neither of us has ever purchased a, er, toy before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Mariah says, beckoning the two of you after them. The walkways are a little too narrow for you to still follow them holding hands, sadly, so you have to drop Asgore’s to do so. “Do you have some idea of what you’re looking for, or do you just want to start with something simple…?”

“Something simple, I think,” Asgore responds. “And, er, penetrative.”

Mariah looks over their shoulder, sizing up your boyfriend’s stature over your head. “Depending on how big you want to go, we may have to refer you to our online catalog,” they say. “We’ve got some Bad Dragon dildos and more specialized toys for monsters in the novelty corner but we don’t usually keep the largest sizes available in-store. They’ll be available from the warehouse, though.”

“That, uh, that won’t be a problem,” you dive in, holding up your hands. “It’s, uhh, let’s just say it’s been a while since the plumbing’s seen any’a that kinda action, and we don’t wanna get too, heh, _cocky_ gettin’ back into the swing of things.”

Mariah snickers. “Nice. In that case we ought to be able to accommodate you just fine. Most of our penetrative toys are in the dildo aisle, though we have some penetrative vibrators available too. A lot of the dildos have test samples set out on the shelf so that you can get an idea of their size, texture, and give before you buy; most of them have care and storage instructions on the box.”

“Gotcha,” you say, giving them a thumbs up.

Mariah gives you and Asgore one more once-over. “Now… would you like me to go over a few safety tips just in case, since this is your first toy?”

“It cannot hurt,” Asgore says. “They do say it is better to be safe than to be sorry.”

“Anything you’re planning to put in the back door needs a wide base,” Mariah says, holding up one finger, “so that the whole thing doesn’t go in and then get stuck. That might need a doctor’s help to remove, and is a pretty awkward conversation to have. Just like the non-vibrating dildos, we have sample vibrators that you can test out to see how strong they are—try holding them against your wrist or the tip of your nose, or… some other safe-for-work place that’s sensitive, if you have furry padding on those places.” This gets a chuckle out of Asgore. “And you’re probably going to want to pick up some lube for your toy, but that should wait until you have a toy in mind, since you don’t want to use silicone lube for a silicone toy without a condom on the toy to protect it. It’s extra-important to try out the lubes before you buy one because you don’t want to pick something that’ll irritate your skin and only find out when you apply it somewhere sensitive.”

“Butt stuff needs a base, everything’s got samples to play with, no silicone on silicone unless you wrap it first,” you recite. “I think we got it for now.”

Mariah nods. “Then I’ll leave you to it! If you need help, have any questions, anything, just give me a holler. I’ll be roaming the store. The register’s over in that corner.”

“Thanks a billion,” you tell them, and they smile and amble off.

You turn to look at Asgore, who turns to look at you, so you shrug at him and gesture towards the dildo aisle that Mariah indicated. Asgore spreads his big palms and makes a helpless face.

“So… I guess this is the part where we head to Dong Road, Boner City?” you say slowly. The arrow finds its intended mark, and Asgore starts to chuckle.

“Indeed, my dear,” he says. “Lead on.”

You do that.

Dong Road, Boner City may have just been intended as a joke, but you find the description to actually be pretty accurate. The aisle has a frankly dizzying array of silicone and glass penises (penii…?) in what feels like every shade of human skin you’ve ever seen and then some, as well as many bright colors that you’d expect to see on monster skin instead. There are ones with such lifelike detail that it kinda puts you off a little honestly, and ones that only have the general shape in common with the organ they’re based on.

Most are in boxes, but as Mariah told you, there are samples sitting out on the shelves, tethered to the aisle walls with little chains like pens at a bank. Asgore meanders on ahead of you in slow shuffling steps, his big head turning from sample to sample. The tops of his big arcing horns rise over the tops of the walls, you note with a grin; at least store staff aren’t gonna have any trouble finding ya, and you’ll be able to keep track of him if he walks on ahead and leaves you behind.

And it’s not like you can really be of any help here; even if you wanted to make suggestions you don’t know anything about Asgore’s taste in dicks. ‘S kind of a relief you’ve decided beforehand to go with somethin’ smaller than Boss Monster size, ‘cause otherwise you’d’ve been wondering the whole time whether he’s looking for something resembling Tori’s. That’s a level of weird and awkward you wouldn’t want to go near with a fifty-foot stick, honestly.

Stopping in front of a row of glass dongs in pretty pastel colors, you reach out to flick one with a fingertip. It makes a satisfying _ping_ noise, so you flick the rest of ‘em too, a series of cheerful plinks. It’s a shame the price tags are so stiff on ‘em, or else you’d consider buying a couple to use to annoy your brother and your pals; they’re nice-looking and all but you would literally get no practical use outta the things.

Asgore, meanwhile, has moved over to stand before some black silicone dildos that he’s squishing between his big meaty finger pads with the seriousness of some kinda x-rated Goldilocks looking for a cock that’s just exactly right. You sidle up closer to get a gander at the ones he’s hovering over; there’re plastic tags on the little chains that tell you the brand name and size of each model, so you pick up the corresponding box and give it a once-over.

 _Medical-grade dual-core 100% silicone,_ you read; _store separately from other silicone toys, use with water-based lubricant. Harness compatible, latex free, 7” insertable._ There’re smaller (five-inch, five-and-a-half, six, six-and-a-half) versions too, in four different skin colors as well as the black.

“You like?” you ask Asgore, who’s still squishing away at the sample.

“Hmm,” he says. “Hmmm. Many of these toys have either felt so stiff that I am worried about them being uncomfortable, or so soft that I worry that my, er, muscles will just push them right back out. But I do like the solid middle that these have. I am only worried about the size.”

“Yeah, these look kinda hefty to me,” you volunteer. The seven-inch one Asgore’s playing with is nearly two inches thick according to its box and looks pretty formidable.

“It is not quite as ‘hefty’ for someone my size. Another Boss Monster would be a few inches longer and significantly thicker,” he says. “But it has been a _very_ long time. I worry that the largest size available might be too large at first, but that anything smaller than it would be too small after I am accustomed to vaginal sex again.”

You consider making a glass slipper joke but give up after a few seconds worth’s juggling in your brain can’t yield a sentence that’s funny instead of just kinda gross. “Could just splurge and get ‘em both,” you say shrugging. “I’m willin’ to go halfsies on the bill if you’re worried about the price tag.”

“These cost over a hundred dollars,” Asgore protests, sounding a little pained. “For something that I may not even get that much use out of.”

“Ehh,” you say, and shrug. “’S not like either of us is that strapped for moolah. When it comes to size it looks like you’ll have the same problems no matter what brand you wanna go for, and in this case being thrifty could actually hurt you.” You pause here to reach up and pat Asgore’s upper arm. “I wanna give you a _good_ time, hon. For me, that’s worth payin’ extra.”

You can just _see_ it on his face that he wants to refuse and say his comfort doesn’t matter, so you raise your brows and continue giving him your most earnest stare.

“Babe,” you say, lowering your voice so that any other potential customers definitely wouldn’t be able to hear you over the soft rock that the store speakers are playing. “It’s our first time. Like, it’s probably gonna be awkward, first times usually are. But I wanna treat you real gentle. I wanna be all cuddly and smoopy and romantic and embarrassing. If I hurt you by accident and we hafta stop we’ll both wind up beating ourselves up about it for a billion years. I wanna avoid that, y’know? Lemme spoil you a little. If I’m taking you to the _bone_ zone, I want you to have a _good_ time, not a bad one.”

“Well, golly, that is very sweet,” says Asgore, smiling a little. “I guess I may as well allow you to indulge me just this once.”

You wink. “It’s gonna be more than just this once, at least I hope,” you tell him. “I’m a stub- _bone_ kinda guy and I wanna keep givin’ you the _royal_ treatment.”

He laughs, and you grin wider. Leaving the aisle you’re carrying both a 6.5” and a 7” model of the squishy-on-the-outside, solid-on-the-inside dildoes, and you’re very satisfied with yourself indeed.

At the lube shelf, you hang on to both boxes while Asgore plays with the bottles of water-based stuff with TRY ME! stickers on ‘em.

“I cannot tell the difference very well,” he admits, having tried half a dozen bottles and wiped his fingertips clean with the tissues available next to the display.

“Well, this brand they’ve got like ten different varieties of is prob’ly their recommended one,” you say. “Might as well just get a bottle of that if it’s not givin’ you a rash or anything.”

“I suppose you are right,” he says, and then insists on dabbing a little on your forearm just to be safe. You don’t think it’s that big a deal since you literally have not got skin that’d react badly, but you let him do it without protesting ‘cause you know it’ll make him feel better.

On the way to the cash register you sorta furtively scope out what kinds of gloves and shit they’ve got available, but it looks like everything’s just latex or latex-ish thin flappy stuff that’s meant to go on someone with a fleshy hand. If you ever wanna actually try fisting your boyfriend without just jamming your fingers in there raw, it looks like you’re gonna have to ask Alphys to help you come up with a hypoallergenic padded one after all.

And like, she’d help you and all, but right now embarrassment’s still banging both hands on the table yelling _DEATH FIRST!_ in the back of your skull, so like… nah. You’ll shelve the whole concept for if you and Asgore ever get bored of dildos.

You were sorta expecting Mariah to be at the register, but there’s a different human here: One with long brown hair and glasses with thick black rims, a long gangly body and skin a similar color to but a little lighter than Frisk’s. They don’t put the tablet they’re scrolling through down until you and Asgore are right up to the corner, but when they do they barely have any more reaction to seeing a couple of monsters in their workplace than Mariah did: They look at Asgore, look at you, and then look at Asgore again, eyes traveling obviously up and down him, poker-faced all the while.

They straighten up and push their glasses up on their nose. Their nametag, you note, says LIRON in loose block caps; you’re close enough to see that the nametag has _My pronouns are_ and a bunch of checkboxes underneath. They’ve checked the box for _they_ and a write-in box next to it, with ZE written in the same lazy hand as their name.

“What’ll it be today,” says Liron the cashier in a bored-sounding tone like you and Asgore are in here every weekend, leaning back in hir chair.

Next to you Asgore is doing the thing he does every once in a while when the two of you run into humans who are the same age as Frisk and Chara, by which you mean to say that he’s frozen a little, peering gravely into Liron’s face. You put the dildo box you were carrying on the counter, then take the other one and the bottle of lube from your boyfriend’s nerveless hands and plop ‘em down beside. Rushing through this conversation until Asgore’s brain reengages is about a billion times less awkward than explaining he’s probably thinking of the kids he killed once upon a time and risking some rando human’s aggression over milk that got spilled decades ago.

“That’ll be two hundred sixty dollars and three cents,” says Liron the cashier. You get out your wallet in case Asgore’s brain’s still stuck making PTSD dialup noises and you’ll need to pay for the whole thing, but before you can unzip it and start counting out cash, your boyfriend has gracefully swooped in to take back over.

“We can worry about splitting the payment later,” he says to you in an undertone.

“I’ll print out an extra copy of the receipt then,” says Liron, hitting a button on the register so that it spits out three rolls of paper instead of two. Ze sweeps everything into a plain dark green bag and pushes it across the counter; Asgore picks it up. “Thanks for shopping with us, have a good day.”

“You too,” you say automatically, and offer Asgore a hand so that you can shortcut back to his place as soon as you reach the door. You look back over your shoulder just once; Liron has returned to hir tablet, but is watching Asgore over the top of it, stare unwavering enough to creep you out just a little.

 

 

You spend the next couple hours hanging out at Asgore’s place, taking it easy. He goes out into the backyard for a while to putter and wind down from whatever set him off about Liron, and since you know that if you go out to hover he’ll feel pressured to act like he’s fine for your benefit, you just sprawl on the couch and pull out a quantum physics book and read.

He’s in a less dolorous mood when he returns, and he seems to perk up as you make dinner together, chicken skewers and mini quiche. It’s a light meal, in consideration for the exercise you plan to do tonight, and you wash the dishes together, you standing on a stool. You get in each other’s way and lean on each other and bump elbows and it’s so adorable you’re liable to expire.

Asgore tells you that he’s going to take a quick shower and to just take your time getting ready, to meet him in the bedroom when you are. You give him a thumbs up and go wash your hands and arms thoroughly, really take your time; once you’ve wiped each bone carefully dry you just meander through the house for a while, listening to the distant buzz of the shower running.

You head on into the bedroom once you get bored rambling, hoist yourself up onto Asgore’s ginormous bed, peel your clothes off and chunk them down on the floor. Naked, you flop back on the mattress.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had sex, but the interim doesn’t make you nervous. You learned from some of your past relationships how awkward shit can get if you don’t establish beforehand both what your boundaries are and what not to expect of you. Unless they know what it’s like to not want to be touched, well-meaning partners who’re physically capable of orgasms sometimes assume that they’re required to give you one. Establishing long before any clothes come off that you literally don’t have the necessary equipment for that and that for you that’s not what sex is about anyway heads off a _lot_ of potential awkwardness and distress.

And much as you hate being direct, you’ve already talked things out with Asgore; you know he understands where you’re at, so you can relax instead of having to keep your guard up and prepare countermeasures for your metaphorical feet getting stepped on while you horizontal tango.

You _are_ gonna have to make sure you check in with Asgore a lot; he might not speak up about some stuff on his own but since he knows you want him to be honest you can trust he won’t lie to you.

This’s starting to verge on your old bad habits of trying to calculate every angle of interpersonal interaction outta mistrust, so you take a deep breath and exhale, really listen to the air whistling through your ribs and your teeth, the cracks in your skull. It’ll be fine.

You realize that the shower’s been silent for a while now just a few moments before the door to the bathroom opens and Asgore steps out.

You turn and look, and then keep looking.

It’s weird to be so physically _aware_ of someone, it happens to you so rarely; all the time you spend watching Asgore, attention drawn to his broad frame and handsome face and wise tired eyes—the time you spend in close quarters with him, snuggles and kisses, solidity and body heat—has made you attuned to him in three dimensions, his size, his weight, his warmth. And yeah, okay, you have definitely wondered more than once what he’d look like with the clothes shucked off.

Maybe that’s why in the face of the surprises the genuine article’s just revealed to you, you find yourself wanting to nod, like _yeah, of course, don’t know why I didn’t think of that already._ You knew Asgore has got little spots of orangey-gold fur like freckles on skin, that he’s got longer gold guard hairs up and down his arms, so seeing similar patches on his thighs and belly and a row of gold from his stomach down to his crotch is like finding the last steps in a proof, just exactly like the sweet satisfying revelation of completing an elegant sequence of math.

In the same vein, obviously you’re aware that this man has given birth before; his son’s less of a little shit these days but you still like to needle Asriel sometimes just for old time’s sake, let him know not everyone’s forgotten about what he’s capable of, and interacting with Asriel, entering proximity with him when you’re hanging out with Asgore or Tori or Frisk or Chara or whoever, you knew he’s Asgore’s kid and how babies generally get made. You’d just never seen your boyfriend’s naked breasts before—Boss Monsters are pretty flat up top unless they’re nursing, apparently, so now you’re getting your first look at the generous and soft-looking pink nipples visible through all that white fur, your brain’s going _oh right, tits_ in the same sorta tone you once said _oh right, sex_ to Alphys when she reminded you of it. And now that the physicality has dawned on you, you’re both thinking that Asgore’s nursed a baby with these before and wondering if he likes having them touched, if your phalanges won’t be too hard and rough for that.

You’ve been dating Asgore for years and so much of his body is still undiscovered country to you. It’s half excitement, half relief that you can finally explore the parts of him you don’t yet know.

Speaking of undiscovered _cunt_ ry, this isn’t a good angle for you to get a clear view of his pussy, but with each slow step towards you there’s the brief flash of wet pink before it’s obscured in chubby fur-covered outer lips or blocked by meaty thigh. Maybe being tactile down there’s still blocked off to you, but you’ve picked up a trick or two with toys with past partners and you are _very_ interested in whether Asgore will enjoy some of those.

Your boyfriend sits heavily on the mattress and gazes down at you warmly. You grin up at him, cheeky as you can manage. “Well hey there, handsome,” you say, crossing your legs like you own the place. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

Asgore chuckles, reaches out to touch your face: One short little brush of fingertips that lifts away just as fast, one teasing little flutter of warmth. “Well, golly, look at how charming you are.”

You catch his hand and gently draw it back to you, nuzzling the side of your face against it. “Hey, you wanna just cuddle for a while to start?”

Asgore shifts the hand to cup your jaw in his gigantic squishy palm. “Of course,” he says, smiling, and makes as if to say something but hesitates.

“Yeah?” you prompt. “C’mon, you can ask for anything.”

He still hesitates another breath before venturing, “Would it bother you if I were to touch myself while we do?”

You nuzzle his hand again. “’Course not. I wanna be right here with you while you do it.”

Lying down together takes some Doing, which you’re used to; you’ve spooned and even napped together plenty of times before. Asgore’s horns make getting horizontal a chore for him unless he’s lying stretched out on his front; while on his back he needs to lie in a way so that he won’t stab holes in the bed or the wall if he turns his head, and if on his side he needs space between his horns and the headboard, plus pillows under the side of his head so that he won’t wind up with a sore neck and stiff shoulders.

You help get said pillows in place and scootch in close to Asgore when he situates himself on his side, curling up as close to him as you can, face pressed up into the fur of his bare chest and everything. His big burly arm comes up to wrap around your back and pull you even closer. He could probably literally snap you into pieces like kindling if he wanted to, and the control it’s gotta take to keep the pressure to comfortably snug is something you’re pretty sure only Papyrus could ever match.

Asgore rests his chin against the top of your skull, tickling your head with fluffy beard; he moves his hand to (probably) sit between his legs, though you can’t see from where you are. The ridge of his forearm presses gently against the side of your knee.

He’s so warm and soft and it’s already so nice to just cozy up to each other, push your forehead into his chest so you can feel the vibrations of his heartbeat and let the expansion and contraction of his lungs as he breathes shift your whole body, shifting minutely to get more comfortable, patting and scritching at his sides and down the front of his chest.

But it’s even nicer than usual to have Asgore’s fur and plush pads directly against your bare bones, to have nothing at all in between your bodies.

And even though his arm doesn’t move so much that you’d have been able to tell, you can still pinpoint the _exact moment_ he starts to masturbate on account of how his breathing deepens.

You didn’t think it was even _possible_ for you to feel this sorta tender about someone. It’s not like you’re really a _stranger_ to other people’s moments of vulnerability; you take care of your brother and Alphys when they’re having bad days, right, and you’ve shortcutted Frisk and Chara both out of situations that were making them freak out, delivering them into the arms of one of their partners or friends or foster parents. But times like those are just—bad scenes nobody asks for, it’s not like they _want_ to show you their throats like that, you’re just stepping in to help out.

Asgore is letting you this close to him at his most helpless by choice. His breath is deep and rhythmic against your head and forearms, and he’s sending little bursts of vibrations through your bones that it takes you a couple seconds to realize are him whining at a lower register than you can properly hear. His voice rises to the point where you can pick it up just a few times, very quiet, as you begin to pick up too the rustle of his fur and the faint wet sloppy sounds as his pussy goes slick with precome.

Sheets rustling joins the sound of fur on fur, and Asgore’s little whines as he breathes out get louder and higher once again, deep reedy notes. His belly pushes against your legs, probably him moving his hips as well as the hand. You reach up a little, careful to avoid elbowing him in the tit or something, so that you can weave your fingers lightly through his beard, tease the edge of his ear. Asgore’s breath hitches in his chest, shaking your whole body, and he groans long and loud, clinging to you as he writhes against his fingers.

He shakes all over, coming down from the orgasm; keeps his hand tucked where it is even when he stops undulating his hips. His hold on you weakens, though, giving you room to sit up and pet his face.

“Well, look who came as fast as he could,” you croon.

Asgore’s eyelids flutter, and he glances at you without raising his head to face you, his smile weak and sheepish. “I—I am sorry,” he says. His voice is so _rough;_ you want to make him keep sounding like that, want to make him feel so good he cries out. “I have—I have wanted you here while I do this for a long time. I’ve wanted to hold you just like this while I come. It has been so _long._ Even touching myself feels better than it did when I was alone.”

“You don’t gotta apologize,” you tell him, still stroking. You lean down to bump your forehead light against the tip of his nose, drag your head back and forth just a little. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

When you sit up again, his eyes are wet; he blinks the wetness away and smiles, leaning into your hands. “Thank you, love.”

The way he says _love_ all soft and velvety makes you wanna wiggle in place like an antsy kid. “D’you wanna go again just to be safe before we unbox the hot new toy?” you ask instead. “’S definitely no trouble for me, I kinda… I got to close my eyesockets and _feel_ you fuck yourself, so I wanna watch too. You can walk me through what you like, if that’s not too much to ask. Or, uhh, we could stop, if you’re already satisfied.”

Asgore’s smile broadens a little. “I still have stamina left, do not worry. And I think that would be practical. Er, if you have specific questions, I think you would probably be better off asking them during, as I think I may get distracted while I’m concentrating on myself.”

“That’s super fair.” And now that you’re sitting up looking him over your eyes just keep going to the boobs, so you point a little and ask, “Would my fingers be too stiff to be comfortable if I touched these guys?”

“Hmm?” Asgore follows your hands and then says “Oh! No, it should be all right if they are wet first. Only be gentle.”

“Gotcha. I can go get the lube,” you tell him, glancing around: It’s with the dildos in their boxes on the bedside table, which unfortunately requires you to scoot away from your warm fluffy boyfriend. Bad planning all around.

You don’t have time to consider how best to comedically pity yourself over this, though, ‘cause Asgore takes your hand in his clean one, gentle as a suggestion. You look back at him with upraised brows.

“Er,” he says, and then falls silent for a moment before starting again. “Saliva would work just as well, if that would be all right with you.”

You think about this for a moment, then shrug and grin. “Sure, I’ll bite. Or, heh, I guess _you’ll_ bite.”

Asgore rewards you with a very small grin. “Heavens, no! That would probably just hurt your fingers and my teeth.” And he pulls your hand up to his mouth. He _kisses your knuckles_ like you’re a princess or something, and then his big flat pink tongue flickers out to tickle your fingertips.

_Whoa._

It’s a weird-ass wet fluttery feeling like stomach butterflies, strange but pleasant; the feeling gets stronger when he gently tucks all your fingertips into his mouth without closing his jaws all the way, laying your hand out flat on his tongue and sucking them diligently. Even though they’re just bone, the magic that makes up your body means your fingers are still sensitive, so the warm strong sensation translates to ticklish. It’s still hard for you to 100% grok what sexual things feel like to people who are physically capable of sexual pleasure, but comparing this to your experiences with sex, you can sorta see now why finger-sucking could be a sexy thing.

Asgore shifts; the mattress creaks. You look down the length of his body to see that he’s turned his left leg to point the knee up towards the ceiling, placing the foot flat along the mattress, splaying his legs wide enough to show himself to you as he masturbates.

He holds one hand flat over his pussy, stroking himself with the middle finger, carefully positioned so that the claw won’t touch bare flesh. He’s shiny slick, so it makes noise. He rubs the pad all the way up and down the length of his vulva, not straying from the middle, sometimes pushing down and wiggling around where you think his vagina opens up. His other fingers press down over the chubby outer lips. At this angle and with his hand in the way you can’t see his clit—even with x-ray vision you’d still probably have to look for it unless he’s got a real big one, the position tends to be a little different between different species of monster. But past his claws and the far edge of the lips, you can see where his pelvis curves around to his ass.

He’s moving his hand—and pushing his hips up against it too, you note a second later—at the same rhythm to which he’s sucking your fingers. That’s just plain cute??

You pull a little on your hand, and Asgore immediately parts his jaws to let you go, docile as anything. He rests his head back against the pillow beneath it, eyes shuttering.

You flex the phalanges a lil before resting them along the edges of the nipple in easier reach. Asgore’s body jerks immediately and you freeze, but he just says _“Sans”_ in a soft pleading tone, so uh. You trace a spiral around the areola, not quite at the fur line. Asgore shivers; the nipple—which was a little sunken when you started out—plumps up right quick, forming a thick roundish peak.

These things are by all accounts pretty sensitive, so you graze your fingertips around it for a while ‘stead of touching it directly, wanting to be dead sure you’re not pressing too hard. But Asgore just makes low shivery contented noises from deep in his chest, so you figure you’re doing ok. You push the nipple gently from side to side and roll it between your fingers, careful not to pinch.

Further down the bed, Asgore’s hips are getting busier. If you watch close you can see his pussy twitching a little under his hands even though he’s pressing down on the whole thing; the fur on his middle finger and his claw are plastered wet despite that he’s been careful not to get either all up into his soft and vulnerable bits.

Finally he inhales real sharp and sudden, and his hand goes rigid and still; you lift your hand off his chest while he shakes and pushes his hips up into his finger while he comes. He doesn’t thrust straight this time—instead he gyrates a little, not quite moving in circles against the pad of his middle finger but wriggling from side to side as well as front to back. He shudders and sighs long and heavy, and relaxes, lifting his hand away from his crotch.

You swivel to face him. His whole face looks smooth and content.

“Good one, huh?” you ask, reaching out with your dry hand to pet his shoulder while you wipe the wet one surreptitiously on the sheets.

“Yes indeed,” he replies, smiling real big. You _really_ want to do more to elicit this reaction outta him than just tweak one single solitary nipple, since you’ve already got some real nice warm fuzzies from the sex that’s happened so far.

“Feelin up to takin’ that new toy for a _ride?”_ you ask. “Or are you maybe good for one night?”

“I think I am up to a little more,” Asgore tells you, opening one soft gold-colored eye to regard you warmly.

“Alright,” you tell him. “Nah, stay there, we might as well do this in a posish that you’re already comfortable in so this won’t turn into a—a game of Twister or something.” That’s an old enough game that he’ll get the reference, right? You give Asgore a Look but he doesn’t ask, so you chalk yourself up a very tentative victory.

“If you insist, my dear,” Asgore agrees. “I’ll admit, it does feel nice to stay still.”

You flash him an ok sign and get up on hands and knees, crawling as quick as you can without losing all dignity to the side of the bed, where you pick up the lube bottle and—you double-check—the six-and-a-half-inch dildo. Returning to Asgore’s side requires an awkward knee-shuffle, which you endure with good humor; you then plop down on your bony hiney and get to unboxing.

This’s your first look at the dildo your boyfriend picked out; you carried the seven-inch one to the counter so you’re pretty sure you remember the box saying it was the solid black model, but this smaller one’s dark brown. The color gradates to dark purplish brown at the sculpted head, like it’s made to imitate the coloring of an actual human erection, complete with blush. The wide base is flat on the bottom and longer on one side, upraised with a sorta bas relief of a ballsack. Now that you’ve got it in your hand, it is in fact pleasantly squishy; you can get your fingers pretty well in there when you squeeze, but the middle’s unyielding. That’s a neat toy design.

As for the lube, it’s got one of those seal things under the cap, which you peel off and stick in the dildo’s box to be properly disposed of later. This done, you push said box off towards the edge of the bed so it won’t get in your way.

You pick the silicone dick back up and hold it out towards Asgore for him to peruse. “Now, you _sure_ this doesn’t feel like it’s too ambitious under the circumstances?” You could afford to nag less if you had soft fleshy fingers to help stretch out his vagina from the inside in preparation before putting the toy in there; two orgasms is a better warmup than nothing, and the store-bought lube plus Asgore’s natural-made variety will also definitely help, but a hundred years plus chump change is still a long time.

“I will be all right,” Asgore says.

Well, he _is_ the expert on his own junk, so you shrug. “Lemme know if that changes.”

“I promise you, I will.”

So you uncap the lube and squirt a modest line up the side of the dildo, like you’re garnishing a hot dog with mustard or ketchup out of a squeeze tube. It’s a silly mental image and all, but your (loaner-)boner is silicone and therefore unkillable, so you just grin about it as you close the lube bottle and spread the slippery stuff all up and down the toy’s shaft and over the head for good measure.

“All ready,” you report, and scoot a little closer to your boyfriend’s spread legs, considering. “Could you hold yourself open a little?”

“Of course,” Asgore says from further up the bed, and reaches down with a big hand to do just that, exposing the soft pink fleshy parts of his pussy.

“Hmm,” you say out loud. “Help me play Find The Clit? I don’t wanna just poke around like an asshole.”

This gets a chuckle out of Asgore. He shifts a little to free up his other hand, and points with a foreclaw deeper in than you were expecting. Now that he’s shown you, you can tell where the soft broad mound starts and ends, and you are _extra_ glad that you asked, ‘cause you would’ve guessed at somewhere closer to the top corner of the lips and gone poking around there all self-assured like a loser without actually doing shit for him.

“I think it’s a little easier to see when it’s fully hard,” Asgore says modestly.

You flip the dildo in your hand and gently trail the tip down the length of his pussy, making him gasp a little, then bring the head back up to press gently against where he opens. It’s harder to do with a toy, but you try to make a kneading motion there, imitating the way he touched himself. The very tip of the head sinks in; Asgore breathes in and out noisily.

He’s still got both hands down here, so you hold the one that’s not occupied keeping him open. He holds back, squeezing a little but still obviously real mindful of his strength.

“You still good?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says.

You consider making a terrible joke, but then reconsider given that Asgore’s boner _is_ killable and he’s been looking forward to this; you don’t want to mess that up. So you reposition yourself and the dildo and gently press until it sinks in.

Asgore says “oh!” once quietly when the rim of the toy goes in, and squeezes your hand just a hair tighter, but the deeper into him the silicone shaft sinks the more he relaxes, steadying his breathing.

“Not too big or too hard?” you ask once it’s about as far in as you’re gonna get it while still keeping manual maneuverability.

“It certainly _feels_ larger than its size,” Asgore says, and pauses to breathe in and out before adding, “but it is not too big by any means. I am ready to keep going, Sans.”

“All righty,” you tell him, and slowly pull the dildo back. He clings while you withdraw it, but on your tentative thrust back in he takes it without resistance. “This good?”

“Press a little… against the, er, the same side as my front,” he directs. You struggle a little to change the angle, but you can tell when you get it right because he gasps, and the soft bump of his clit gets bigger and more prominent.

“This pace, or faster?” you prompt.

“A little—oh! A little faster would be, ah, ideal,” he says, sounding _very_ distracted. You grin real big and pump your arm more enthusiastically, gradually picking up the pace.

When his pussy’s gently twitching around the toy and his breath’s the same long rhythmic huff from when he was touching himself, you turn your head to grin at him more direct-like. “Hey Gorey,” you say. “Wanna see my signature party trick?”

“Sans, I was not aware you played with sex toys at parties,” he responds so mildly that at first you think he didn’t understand your turn of phrase. He’s smiling, though, and that enough makes you really goddamn glad you managed to negotiate all this and make it to actually having sex, long as it took.

“It’s pretty badass,” you brag gently, “I got a pretty good rating outta everybody I’ve showed it to.”

And you let go of the toy, holding up your hand and letting your magic flare to life around it. You’ve got the right rhythm and the right angle down pat after pumping it with your hand for so long; it’s baby stuff to keep it thrusting in and out hands-free.

“Lazybones like me’s gotta find a way to keep things lively just in case my arm gets tired,” you joke, and crawl up the side of the bed to curl up next to Asgore’s chest, snuggling back in close. “And the _best_ thing is, this way we get to be all cuddly and shit while I keep you feelin’ good.”

This makes him laugh breathlessly. “Yes, I do believe that you promised me the… what was it, the ‘large cums? They will be much more rewarding if we can hold each other, I think.”

“Oh my _god,_ you’re such a _goober,”_ you say out loud, and wrap your arms as far around him as you can, hiding your face in his front. “You want I should _bone_ you harder?”

He groans. _“Yes.”_

So you flex your hand, and speed up the pistoning bit by bit until even up here you can clearly hear the squelchy noises it makes through Asgore’s precome. It’s a little harder to pull out; though it’s damned hard to tell when you can’t actually feel what his vaginal walls are doing, you think he’s starting to tighten on it in anticipation. He’s definitely shivering, and definitely moaning low too, the reverb buzzing pleasantly through your bones. His fur and flesh are warm against you too, all cuddly and toasty as his temperature soars.

At last he grunts: _“Oh,”_ and “Sans—don’t stop yet.”

So you don’t stop, but you do turn your head to watch his hips buck on air, welcoming the floating dildo even as he shakes and whimpers through his orgasm, so that you can slow the thrusts down and aim more carefully to press softly against the belly wall.

He’s shuddering and huffing by the end of it, and says very abruptly, “That is enough, that’s enough—” so halting and so strained that you try to go extra soft and slow as you pull the toy out one last time. The brown shaft is shiny with his come, and though it doesn’t draw exaggerated threads of the stuff as you withdraw it, it does make one last wet noise when the head pops clear.

Asgore relaxes. You let the freshly broken in dildo drop to the mattress, where it bounces a little, and then wiggle to get comfortable again up against your boyfriend’s chest. Sustained gravity magic, even when it’s just thrusting a toy in and out of somebody’s pussy a couple inches, is a little tiring in a pins-and-needles, sweaty sorta way.

“I think I will probably be feeling that in the morning still,” Asgore says to the crown of your skull at length, “but in a very good way. Thank you for keeping me such lovely… _come-_ pany.”

You snicker and pat his chest. “Good one. You need to clean up any, buddy?”

“I do not think so, with the water-based lube,” he says, “and I am still very very comfortable here with you.”

“Sounds good ta me,” you tell him, grinning. Happy cuddles are absolutely your _favorite_ part of sex. You roll the dildo a little further down the bed with magic so neither of you will kick it, and lift the big patchwork quilt off the footboard of the bed the same way, dropping it haphazardly over you both. It’s kinda half-assed and mostly just covers Asgore’s flank since you didn’t bother to unfold it, but eh. It’s nothing compared to the one time you got so _cock_ -y doing magical stunts with a partner that you misjudged your strength and yanked their favorite toy out of them with such momentum it flew across the room and dented their bedroom wall. It took the better part of a year for you to live that one down.

“You are truly the sweetest lazybones I have had the, ah, _pleasure_ to know,” Asgore says of your gravity manipulations.

“Aw, thanks,” you tell him, grinning, closing your eyes. “I’m just happy to match with my very cute lazy- _boned_ boyfriend.”

He chuckles at this. You fill in the rimshot noise in the back of your head, since you ain’t got a drum set here to make it in real life.

Maybe Asgore’s jokes are a little more on the nose than Tori’s, and he’s slower on the riposte, but he makes up for that in gentleness. And as hard as communication can be between the two of you and all your myriad issues, you feel like it’s worth the hassle: For tender moments like this one, and for practice at being more tender in general.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” you tell him, on that note. “I had a lot of fun.”

There’s a pause that makes you a little nervous wondering if he’s gonna be surprised, like most horny dudes for whom the point of sex is getting off. But Asgore just says, “So did I, and you are very welcome.”

He pauses to press a fluffy kiss to the top of your head, and then remarks, “The ‘big cums’ were very nice too, golly,” which makes you wheeze with laughter so hard you suck in air through your ribs and almost choke on it.


End file.
